


Don't Be Such a Third Wheel, Derek Hale

by chantelle82



Series: The Rules of Romance [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, oblivious!boys, roommates!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 07:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chantelle82/pseuds/chantelle82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek moves into the apartment and discovers the Scott/Stiles bromance may not be open to new members.  Meanwhile, Stiles tries to gear up for a war with Finstock.  Danny and Boyd are no help at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Be Such a Third Wheel, Derek Hale

Derek stepped out of the elevator as he struggled with the two cardboard boxes that had been threatening to slip from his hands every few seconds.  Thank god there were only a few boxes of books and clothes left…and then he would officially have a new home.  A home with one guy who could possibly become a good friend, and another guy who…well, Derek had no idea about that one.

 As he rounded the corner, Derek saw his uncle leaning casually against the wall.  “Now, I know you’re not here to help.  You want something.”

 Peter didn’t bother to look affronted as he straightened up and smoothed out his jacket.  “I _might_ be in a charitable mood.”  Derek attempted to hand one of the boxes to him to retrieve his keys.  “However, I’ve just had a wonderful moisturising treatment on my hands.  As soft as a…well _my_ ass actually.  So, I’d like to take that box, but my skin can’t take anything so coarse right now.”

 Derek rolled his eyes as he leaned the weight of the boxes onto the wall and managed to free up his left hand to grab his keys.  He unlocked the door.  “I have _actual_ things to do, so whatever you’re here for – just tell me and go…and Stiles has a shift.  No one for you to creep-flirt with.”

 As they walked through the lounge, Scott gave them a smile and a wave as he continued to talk on the phone.  “Ughh, his happiness always makes me feel so…dirty.  How do you put up with it?”  Peter asked as Derek pushed open the bedroom door with his hip and dropped the boxes on the bed.

 “Yes – how dare someone commit the hideous crime of trying to be a decent and sociable human being?”  Derek said as he began to organize his books.

 Peter stretched himself out on the bed with all the grace of a gazelle and looked around his nephew’s room.  Derek had never been the kind of child to surround himself with unnecessary objects, and that practice seemed to have stayed with him into adulthood.

 Although the room wasn’t very large – _miniscule_ is a word that came to Peter’s mind – one wall was completely lined with books.  Peter sighed at the lack of interior designing skill and was about to voice his disgust when he spied a small framed photograph on the bedside table.

 It was nothing special – a normal family piled around a picnic table on the Fourth of July.  But seeing his brother’s face smiling out at him always surprised Peter.  He’d notice that his brother was less…well, Peter could never pick out how the reality differed from his mental image of him – but he never pictured him how he _really_ had been.

 “…and it took me ten minutes to get the peanut butter out of the drain.  Why you would need it in the bathroom is absolutely beyond me…” Peter shook himself from the past – a painful past – to notice that Derek had been talking about something the entire time.  Something boring most likely.

 Derek turned to get some more books when he frowned.  Peter craned his neck to see a ludicrously full-lipped statue dressed as a postman.  Derek stomped over to the desk and ripped a piece of paper out from underneath it and scowled even more.

 “Mexican Friday…A Trip on the Orient Express Thursday…” Derek muttered, “…coloured clothes on Satur-…This guy is insane!”  Peter watched as his nephew threw open his door and stomped back out to the lounge.  “Scott!”

 Peter followed Derek to see Scott sitting on the couch looking confusedly at the phone hanging loosely in his hand.  “Huh…what is it?”

 “What is this?”  Derek exasperated as he waved the paper around.  “ _’Italiano Delicioso Monday’_!...and why is this cleaning roster filled with nothing but Stiles’ name?”

 Scott put the phone on the coffee table and slumped back onto the couch.  “Oh, that’s just the house roster.  There’s a laminated copy on the inside of the pantry door.  Stiles kinda likes to do a lot of the stuff himself.  I used to try and help out but…that didn’t end well.”

 “Why does he think he’s doing my laundry?  That is _not_ something that is happening.”

 “You really should give it a try.  I don’t know what he does, but he gets everything _so_ soft.  Even Jackson would let him do his,” Scott replied distractedly.

 Derek took in the dejected look on his roommate’s face and sat down on the couch.  “Is everything okay?” 

 Peter sighed as he crossed his arms and leaned on the wall.  Scott shot a look at the elder Hale and then back at Derek.  Derek tilted his head to indicate that Peter should leave, but being arbitrary was a Peter Hale trademark.  Scott just slumped further into the couch and sighed.

 “Okay, so you know I met somebody, right?”

 “Yeah, Allison.  I might’ve heard you mention her to Stiles once or twice,” Derek said.  Actually, he’d heard about her countless times in the one day he’d been there.  Stiles had been reciting a ridiculous poem he’d entitled ‘An Ode to an Angel’.  Rhyming ‘locks of velvet’ with ‘skin of a mole rat’ had been the genius’ opening lines.  Idiot.

 “Well, I finally took Stiles’ advice and phoned her…but I’m not exactly sure what happened.”

 “Colour me shocked,” Peter piped in.  Neither Scott nor Derek took any notice of him.

 “What exactly did she say?”

 “We talked for a few minutes about the other day and then I asked if she wanted to go out for dinner on Friday…But she said she was busy at work,” Scott finished.  “That means she’s trying to let me down easy, right?”

 Derek shook his head.  “That’s it?  Scott, despite what you see on T.V., sometimes people say what they mean.  You must have times when you can’t get away from the office, right?”  Scott nodded.  “So, there’s no reason that that’s not the case for Allison.”

 “Or she can’t stand to hear your whiny rejected voice.  Because – believe me – I wish I could’ve avoided hearing it,” Peter said.

 “You can leave anytime…sooner rather than later would be better,” Derek said as he glared at his uncle before turning back to Scott.  “You said you were attracted to her not only because of how she looks but because of her integrity.”  Stiles had rhymed _that_ with ‘hold hands with her by the sea’.  “Do you really think she’s the kind of person to lie just to avoid letting you down?”

 Scott smiled.  “No, Allison wouldn’t do that…So, you think I should try again?”

 “Yes, just phone her and don’t hang up before letting her know she can pick any day she’s not busy,” Derek said as he patted Scott on the shoulder as he went to stand up.  “Wow, that is soft.”

 “Told you.  Stiles is a _master_ of the laundry.”

 

*****

 

Duct tape was the invention of the devil.  Stiles ripped another piece from his abused fingertips and fixed it to his makeshift ‘Ice Machine Out of Order’ sign on the wall.

 “You’re falling behind, Stiles.  The world eats alive those who can’t stay competitive!”  Stiles turned to see Finstock of Finstock’s Fine Foods looking at him from across the road.  His smarmy grin was firmly fixed in place.

 “I’m sure you’re beating them away with your ‘Exotic Half-Price Cucumbers’!” Stiles yelled back as he read the ‘Finstock’s Fit and Firm Specials’ board.

 Finstock didn’t bother replying as he turned to fix an obnoxiously large ‘We Have Ice’ sign to the glass window.  Stiles didn’t miss the extra attention Finstock had given to the ‘We’.  There was _nothing_ subtle about that man.

 Stalking back through the automatic doors, Stiles straightened up the chip rack – why did people think the chips at the back were any better than the ones at the front? – and headed down to Danny and Boyd.

 “How hard do you think it would be to get a few hundred fruit flies?”  Stiles asked as he leaned on the glass bakery counter.

 “Finstock?” Boyd asked as the timer of the large commercial oven dinged.  The smell of cooking buns got stronger as the oven door was opened.

 “He makes my skin itch,” Stiles said as he furiously ran his hands over his scalp.  “We need to do something…Easter’s coming up.  Maybe we can…”

 “No, Stiles,” Danny said as he came out of the meat freezer.  “We’re not dressing up.”

 Stiles ignored Danny’s words as his brain began to whir.  “This year would be perfect for my Beefcake Bunnies idea!  Look at us.  We are three sexy young guys…” Boyd rolled his eyes at the words, “…we’ll have lines down the street just to glance at our glistening bodies with cute bunny tails…Yes!”

 “Yeah, that’s not going to violate any health and safety standards at _all,_ ” Danny said.

 “Oh, right.  I’m sure we could get some skin-tight costumes for the two of you.  I can be enough eye candy for all of us,” Stiles said as he ran his hands down his body.

 “Morrell’s gonna say no, thank god…But can we talk about more important issues?  Like your new roommate?”  Boyd placed the hot cross buns on a cooling rack and then leaned on the counter waiting for Stiles’ answer.

 Danny dried his hands and began to scrape out the meat slicer.  “Is Derek as sexy as his voice sounds?  I’ve always pictured piercing blue eyes and dark hair just begging to have my hands run through it.”

 Stiles snorted.  “Definitely no blue eyes – and I think if you ran your hands through his hair they’d get bogged down in the shit-ton of gel he puts in it…He just looks like Douchey Derek.”

 “You are hopeless.  Luckily Boyd and I don’t have to rely on your _wonderful_ description.  We’re coming over this Sunday.”  Stiles opened his mouth to object but Danny held his hand up to stop him.  “Don’t even, Stiles.  Me.  Boyd.  Your place.  This weekend.  Get over it.”

 “You both suck as friends.”

 “Get better ones then.  Oh, wait.  That’s right, you’re an unsociable ass.  Looks like you’re stuck with us,” Boyd retorted as he handed Stiles a warm bun.

 “Whatever,” Stiles said with his mouth full, “You’re gonna hate him.  Derek’s so insufferable…and smug… _all_ the time.  Just seeing his stupid face annoys me.”

 “I think I love him already,” Danny responded.

 Stiles glared as he stuffed the rest of the bun into his mouth.  Why didn’t anybody ever trust his judgment about people?

 

*****

 

Derek kept running his last caller through his mind and wished he’d had more time with her.  He remembered the confusion and fears that he’d felt finishing high school and trying to figure out what the rest of his life would be.  The advice he’d given Cassie just didn’t seem…enough.

 Lost in his thoughts, Derek walked through the front door and then stopped short at the sight of his two roommates in the kitchen.  Scott and Stiles had glasses pressed against their ears listening to whatever was going on in the apartment beside them.

 Derek considered just walking straight to his room and ignoring whatever they were up to.  He made it halfway down the hall before stopping and turning around. 

 What was he doing?  He had to live with these people and why couldn’t they be friends?  Derek kind of liked how Scott and Stiles treated each other like family, even if sometimes their closeness made him a little uncomfortable.  Watching Stiles pop Scott’s pimples this morning was something he would never _ever_ be joining in on.  But spying on the neighbours?  He could do that.

 “What’s going on?”  Derek whispered as he stepped between the two of them.  Stiles shushed him and tried to push him away with his hand.  Thankfully, Scott took pity on him.

 “Harris is back…and on the phone,” Scott leaned backwards to grab a glass off of the counter and hand it to Derek.

 “Oh…kay?” Derek had no idea why that was spy-worthy information.

 “That sounded like ‘hit’…Did he just put a hit on somebody?” Stiles whispered.

 “Nah, I think he has to do the hit…and pick up a kitten…It’s a little unclear,” Scott replied.

 Derek was, if anything, more confused than before.  He carefully placed the glass on the wall and leaned in.  His nose brushed the soft material of Stiles’ plaid shirt. He could’ve sworn the guy smelled of baking bread.  It was…nice.

 Stiles shrugged his shoulder and glared.  “Could you hit the wall any harder?  Why don’t I just go downstairs and grab a power saw?  We could cut a window right here to make it easier for you.”

 Derek rolled his eyes, which only made Stiles glare harder.  Their faces were only an inch apart and Derek could probably count the many different shaded flecks of amber in Stiles’ eyes.  The eyes that continued to give him a death-glare.  He could do nothing right by this guy.  Derek was still at a loss why he got the approval to move in.  Maybe Stiles needed someone in-house to torture.

 “Well, it looks like he left.  I’ll make a note of what he said in the book,” Scott said as he put the glass down and stepped away from the wall.  Derek hadn’t even noticed the guy next door leaving and - judging by the little jerk of his shoulders – Stiles hadn’t either.

 Stiles pushed away from the wall and walked over to the oven.  Derek watched as Scott began to lay out places on the table.  It was ‘Waves of Desire Wednesday’ and the smell of tuna casserole began to waft around the apartment.  Derek felt like he was in the way.

“So, uh, the Harris guy.   What’s the deal with him?”

 “He’s an evil criminal mastermind that controls all the crime in the city,” Stiles answered as he placed the large dish of casserole onto a board in the middle of the table.

 “No way.  He’s a spy.  Defeating arch villains and camouflaging himself by living in a normal apartment,” Scott retorted as he put four plates down.  Apparently, Little Mermaid-Jackson got both a seat _and_ a place setting.

 Derek decided he could handle getting the drinks.  He opened the fridge and grabbed three beers out.  Scott walked up beside him and pulled one out of his hand and put it back on the shelf.

 “Not for Stiles,” he said as he grabbed a soda and put it in Derek’s hand.

 “Oh, okay,” Derek said as Scott headed back and took a seat.

 Sitting down at the table himself and reaching to put a drink in front of each of his roommates, Derek felt…comfortable.  He hadn’t sat down to a home-cooked meal in…years.  Kate had preferred to go out or to get take out.  This was nice.

 “Maybe Harris is just a businessman who travels a lot,” mused Derek while he watched Scott take a big helping of tuna casserole.

 “Think big, DD,” Stiles said.  Well, at least Derek didn’t have to hear Douchey before his name anymore.  But the nickname still irked him.  “He’s a blank and mysterious slate.  You can come up with something better than ‘travelling businessman’.”

 Derek waited for Stiles to take some food, however it seemed like he was expected to go next.  So, Derek dished himself out a serving – it smelled fantastic – and racked his brain to come up with something.

 “A treasure hunter.  He’s a treasure hunter competing in the dangerous world of searching for rare antiquities.”

 Stiles gave a small smile.  “There you go, buddy.  A bit derivative, but I like the effort.”  Derek supposed that was as close to a compliment as he’d ever get, so he’d take it.

 “Scott, did you call Allison back?”

 Scott was about to answer when Stiles interrupted.  “Wait.  You called Allison?  When?”

 “You were at work.  I thought the whole call was a disaster but Derek talked me through it,” smiled Scott as he took a mouthful of food.

 Derek noticed the return of Stiles’ death glare in his direction.  Well, he’d reached ‘buddy’ once, but Derek figured he had now been dropped back to ‘DD’.  God, he hoped there wasn’t a nickname lower than that.

 

*****

 

Stiles hopped off the elevator and waddled down the hallway.  Morrell had definitely caused his Easter costume plan to seriously backfire.  And Danny and Boyd were officially his arch nemeses.  They’d broken any and all rules of common decency…and it was completely unforgivable.  Thank god, he could go home and hang out with Scott for the rest of the night.  Bro-time was definitely needed.

 Needed but not happening.

 As Stiles entered the apartment, Derek craned his head around from his place on the sofa and smirked.  “I never knew you’d be one to really get into the Easter spirit,” he said as Stiles stalked past him, dressed in a ridiculously pink bunny suit.

 “Where’s Scott?”  The huge rabbit feet made loud flopping sounds on the floorboards as Stiles stomped back into the lounge.  The impatient tapping of his foot only made Derek laugh louder.

 “Don’t get your cottontail all in a twist – he’s not here yet…Are you really going to make me ask why the-“ Derek sat up straighter as he gestured to Stiles’ costume.

 “Work,” Stiles grunted as he tried to reach his hand down the back of the outfit to scratch himself.  The damn thing was itchy as hell.  Thankfully, the costume’s head and body had been separate…otherwise driving home would’ve been a bigger son-of-a-bitch than it had been.

 “Right, and let me guess…the zipper is stuck.”

 “Stuck…jammed deliberately by an asshole butcher.  Take your pick,” said Stiles as he flopped onto the opposite end of the couch to Derek.

 “And you’re just going to stay like that until Scott gets home?”

 “Yep.”

 “Whatever,” Derek murmured as he went back to watching the news.

 Stiles squirmed inside the suit as it began to itch some very delicate and highly valuable parts of his body.  There was no way he was asking Douchey Derek for help though.

 Stiles snuck a look at his still new roommate as the blue light of the television washed over his face.  He’d never met anybody who both intrigued and irritated him in equal measure.  When Derek had stood up for himself and called out Stiles on his bullshit in their first meeting, Stiles knew he was somebody he could at least deign to cohabitate with.  But be friends with…well that was different.

 “Oh, I forgot…Your dad rang.  He said to tell you that he got the pamphlets you sent, but he’s not doing anything with the word ‘cleanse’ in it,” Derek said without taking his eyes off of the television.

 “So, you spoke to him?”  Stiles scratched his neck absentmindedly.

 “Yes, Stiles.  It was a phone call.  Talking was involved.”

 “Did you give him any of the patented ‘Derek Hale advice’, which you can’t help but vomit out to everybody?”

 Derek shot his gaze toward Stiles.  “I knew it!  I knew it pissed you off that I talked to Scott about Allison.  What the hell is your problem?”

 “People who don’t know their own place and interfere where they’re not needed,” Stiles replied.  His remark lost its effect as the large bunny foot begin to loudly thump on the floor as Stiles bounced his knee up and down in irritation.

 “No wonder why Jackson moved out,” Derek shot back.

 “What does he have to do with anything?!”

 “I just think I’m beginning to see how it felt being the third wheel to the ‘Scott & Stiles Show’,” Derek said as he twisted his body to face Stiles.  “Scott tries to include others, but you… _you_ are so goddamn territorial over everything!  You’re the only one who can clean, who can cook, who can apparently be friends with Scott.  That’s not really healthy.”

 “Oh god,” Stiles muttered as he jumped up so he could pace and point at Derek.  “Don’t start.  I am so not in the mood to have my subconscious analysed right now, DD.  No wonder why you don’t have friends.  Every conversation turns into a journey into our psyche.  It’s bullshit!”

 “I have friends, Stiles,” Derek replied calmly.  “It’s you that clings to Scott like he’s some…” Derek was interrupted by Stiles’ cell phone ringing.

 “Thank god!”  Stiles exclaimed as he saw who was calling.  “Scott!  Get ready for an epic Bro-burger Saturday, dude.  You’ll never guess what I’m wear…Oh, you are?...No, that’s really cool.  I knew she couldn’t resist my boy! ...Yeah, whatever…Go forth and romance the hell out of her…Okay.”

 Derek couldn’t help but notice the fire in Stiles’ eyes go out as he finished the call.  “Allison phoned him and said she was free…That’s…good…I mean, really, how healthy is it to have burgers _every_ Saturday.  I tell my dad to…” Stiles suddenly realized who he was ranting to and quickly shut his mouth.

 Derek studied the enigma he called his roommate for a few moments.  Scott was pretty easy to figure out.  He seemed to just let people be who they wanted to be as long as they were happy.  It’s the only thing that explained how he put up with the person he chose as a best friend. 

 But Stiles…Derek couldn’t figure him out.  He seemed to cloak his motivations and emotions in layers of absurdity.  That cloak had slipped a little with that phone call from Scott.  Maybe it was a fear of being left behind or left out…Derek wasn’t sure, but he kinda felt for the guy dressed as a pink bunny in front of him.  Even if he was an asshole.

 “The meat’s already defrosted,” Derek began, “so if it’s only going to go to waste, I’ll cook it up.”

 Stiles eyed him warily.  “You?  You said you haven’t cooked in a while.  I don’t need novices in my kitchen.”

 Derek bit back the urge to go on a ‘Stiles is a territorial ass’ rant.  God, trying to be nice was hard.  “I mean, it’s only a burger.  There’s a ground beef button on the microwave.  I’ll just mix some herbs in and cook it in there.”

 “I…you…no!  A microwave!  What the hell!  God!  Fine, I’ll cook them.  But I’m eating mine in my room!”

 Derek stood up.  “Whatever, I don’t care.  Turn around so I can get that zipper.  You look ridiculous.”

 “Your everything is ridiculous,” Stiles responded childishly even though he followed Derek’s order.

 Derek stepped forward and grabbed the zipper.  Whoever had done it up had jammed a piece of paper into the teeth.  He picked out the mess and managed to lower the zipper. 

 Derek’s eyes caught on a mole just below Stiles’ hairline on the back of his neck.  If his hair was any longer, it would be completely hidden.  It stood out darkly on Stiles’ pale skin…and Derek had absolutely no idea why he was focused on it.  Definitely time to take a step back.

 Stiles stayed fixed in place.  “I know what you’re doing, “ he murmured as Derek inwardly flailed.  How could he have seen Derek stare creepily at that mole? Damn…now he was looking at it again.  What was wrong with him?  He needed to stop hanging around his uncle.   “But don’t think that just because you got me to cook Bro-burgers for you means we’re friends or anything.”

 Derek let out a breath.  Thank god…mole-gate was successfully contained.  “No idea what you’re talking about.  As I said, I don’t even need you.  I can cook it myself.  Microwaved burger in only a few minutes.”

 “You’re an idiot,” grumbled Stiles as he waddled to his room to take off the stupid bunny costume.

 Derek smiled…and then frowned.  Why did it make _him_ feel better that Stiles wasn’t so sad?  And what the hell was up with that mole?

 

 **Next time:**   Stiles decides to become a parent…to a goldfish named Keith.


End file.
